here's a place i'd like to call home
by chalantness
Summary: Drabble #6 - Steve/Natasha - She hadn't anticipated the job would take as long as it did and a large part of her wants to kick Fury's ass for not warning her.
1. drabble 1

******Pairings:** Steve/Natasha + Tony/Pepper**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,400  
**Prompt:** link on profile

**A/N:** My place for future Avengers/Marvel drabbles.

... ...

She's not really sure when bimonthly weekend brunches with Tony and Pepper became a regular thing, but she doesn't hate them, not in the least bit.

Tony always chooses some nice, fancy place to take them to every third Sunday, so it gives her and Pepper a reason to get together during an off hour earlier in the week and figure out what they're going to wear. (Contrary to popular belief, they both enjoy a nice, semi-formal outing.) And the Friday night before the first Saturday of the month, Steve brings their dessert into the living room, pulls her onto his lap and feeds the both of them while she's browsing recipes online and they debate on what they'll be making for Tony and Pepper the next day.

It's comfortable, these little things that have become part of their life.

She didn't have any sense of normalcy growing up, no real traditions to look forward to, while Steve had _tons_, and honestly, settling down isn't as scary as she thought it'd be. They both still work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and with the Avengers, obviously, and still have to adjust to things on a dime sometimes.

But coming home to Steve, who kisses her in the middle of her forehead for no particular reason and makes stupid stuff like grocery shopping and folding laundry enjoyable, is something she never thought she'd need until it was already happening. He slipped a ring on her finger three weeks after their just-friends vacation to the Florida Keys became really serious, really quickly, but didn't pressure her to make anything official, and they moved in together shortly after. It took no time at all to become good friends with some of the other people in their building, and they're regulars at this little family-owned bakery and café that's on this long street that's with a bunch of small boutiques and shops. There's also a park across the street from their apartment with different vendors every week, and they'll try to walk around there every Monday and Wednesday when the farmer's market is happening.

Their apartment is basically her favorite place in the world, too. It's just this huge, open room with a kitchen in the corner and a bathroom that's the only enclosed space. They've sectioned off areas with bookshelves and wall dividers, and the entire place was furnished with gifts from their friends, pieces they've picked up at a few pawn shops and vintage stores nearby, and purchases from Ikea with Tony and Pepper's credit card (as an early wedding gift, supposedly, which is actually a really sweet gesture considering how Tony is).

She knows, eventually, that Steve wants to move into a house that's bigger and _theirs_, but they both love their apartment so much right now that it's a little hard to imagine moving out. It's stupid, she knows, but still.

Anyway.

Last night, Pepper called to tell her the address of this month's brunch venue and to say their reservations are for 9:30 this time. Neither of them has _any_ other commitments today, which almost never happens, so Natasha asks they want to come to Ikea with her and Steve later. She doubts Tony will want to, but Pepper does, so whatever. He'll live.

Steve braids her hair for her after she's showered and changed, so her hands are free to do her makeup, and sometimes she's surprised she's never made fun of him for being able to French braid better than her. He learned a few different kinds over the last few weeks so he can help keep it out of her face and it's so sweet, honestly. Even when he's finished, he stands behind her so that she's between his hips and the counter and he slides his hands idly up and down her side and makes her laugh and mess up on her mascara three times. Then, on the drive over, he played with the ring on her finger where her hand was resting on the center console and she fed him crackers from the box he slipped into her bag.

Tony and Pepper are already seated at their table in the middle of this patio area that's shaded overhead by netting laced with ivy and flowers, and she and Pepper hug while Tony claps his hand against Steve's shoulder and says something that makes Steve chuckle.

"So," Natasha says once she and Pepper are seated across the table from the boys. "How was Daytona?"

"Nothing to report," Tony says, waving his hand. "If you've been to one mosquito-infested beach, you've been to them all."

"It wasn't mosquito-infested," Pepper assures.

"I was _bitten_."

"You got bitten _once_."

Tony huffs a little and leans back in his chair. Steve laughs.

"Anyway," Pepper says, and she angles herself towards Natasha a little as she talks about their vacation, which, she admits, actually wasn't anything special. It couldn't even be considered a vacation, either, because she and Tony had to sit in on a few meetings, and then they got swarmed by people whenever they went anywhere too densely populated.

Tony and Steve are talking about something else when the waiter comes to take their order, and when he asks if they'd like him to bring the alcohol menu, the four of them reply _no_ at the same time. She and Pepper kind of just look at each other after that, after the waiter has left with a promise to bring back their iced water and appetizers, and then Pepper furrows her eyebrows a little like she does whenever she's thinking. Natasha glances across the table and sees that Steve's sort of just looking between the both of them, the wheels turning in his head, and Tony's got his eyebrows raised like he already knows what's supposed to come next and finds it highly amusing.

"Are you…" Pepper trails off, and Natasha turns to look at her again. "I'm not drinking," she says instead, and like, Natasha knows they both know where this is going because Pepper's already got this _smile_ on her face and Natasha can feel herself smiling, too.

"Neither am I," Natasha says. "I'm pregnant."

"Me too," Pepper says in this hushed tone, straightening in her seat. Neither of them squeals or anything, but then Pepper squeezes her arms around Natasha when she leans over for a hug and they're both just laughing and holding each other for a few seconds. Then Pepper pulls away, tucks her hair behind her ear as she asks, "When are you due?"

"Beginning of July," she answers, and yeah, she and Steve laughed pretty hard when found this out. Knowing their luck, their kid will be born on the Fourth just like his dad.

"What about you, Pepper?" Steve asks. "When are you due?"

"Beginning of June," she says.

Tony gets this smile on his face that's only ever been because of Pepper, and he reaches across the table, grasps Pepper's hand in his and kisses the tops of her knuckles. It's sweet and gentle and Natasha has to look away because she feels like she's intruding.

She meets Steve's gaze, and when he mouths _I love you_, she runs her calf against his leg underneath the table because that basically means the same thing. She'll say it back to him properly, of course, because he'll ask her to when they're alone and she means it, and she actually really likes saying it, if only to see his face light up when he hears the words.

The rest of brunch is admittedly uneventful, at least in comparison to the whole pregnancy revelation, though there's a second where Steve's expression is completely _horrified_ after Tony makes some comment about potentially becoming in-laws someday, and Natasha literally almost spits out her food because she's laughing so hard. Oh, she knows Tony is sure as hell going to torment Steve with this for as long as he can, because he's already talking about things like arranged marriages and grandchildren and Steve has to put his face in his hands as the guy keeps going. Natasha should really interrupt, but it's kind of _hilarious_ and even Pepper can't keep a straight face when she's telling Tony to just drop the subject. They're kind of right now and drawing stares, and if this is how it is only an hour after finding out, she can only imagine what things will be like after today.

(She's excited.)


	2. drabble 2

******Pairings:** Clint/Felicia**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,200  
**Prompt:** link on profile

... ...

When she was approached by a strange man at the club about working for S.H.I.E.L.D., she wasn't exactly throwing herself at the offer. Working for them seemed like too much of a team gig, even though the agent had said she was only needed for that one assignment.

But it's not that easy getting out of something once you start.

She knows this from personal experience and all that taught her was that she wasn't good at being a team player, which isn't a surprise. She's been alone for such a long time and likes it that way; it works for her and always has. She really has no desire to use her skills to help a greater cause. Still, she left the club that night with an embossed card sitting at the bottom of her clutch purse and didn't end up throwing it away like she was going to. She just left it there, untouched, only glancing at occasionally whenever she was getting ready for work. Or it'd catch her eye when she'd open her purse to drop in the number of a man that bought her drinks and wanted her to call him, though she never would.

Even now, if you asked her what changed her mind about doing the assignment, she can't really come up with a solid answer.

She was just walking back from this little dive coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment one morning and the route passed this huge park. It was kind of overcast that day and a little chilly from a breeze, so people were bundled up. But the place was still fairly crowded with happy families, couples taking a stroll, the elderly sitting on benches and feeding the birds swimming around in the pond, kids playing tag, men selling hot chocolate and warmed baked goods from a cart. It looked like something out of a Lifetime movie, actually.

And she couldn't help but look at that picture as she walked by and think that what all these people had at that moment—it was the last thing a girl like her could ever want. She wanted something exciting and different, an adrenaline rush. She liked the not knowing what would happen all the time, ending up in strange places with a good story to tell.

She wanted that, and it was just a phone call away.

So she dialed the number.

She gave them a hotel to meet her at but not a room. They're spies; they could figure out that detail when she checks in. And even if she didn't doubt the idea that they already knew the whereabouts of her apartment, it just made sense in her head to do it at a neutral zone.

"Miss Hardy?"

She looks up from the marble counter of the front desk to find a man standing a few feet away. He looks a little gruff, somehow, despite being in a suit, and she can't help but find that underlying broodiness to his otherwise unreadable expression incredibly… well, _attractive_, for the lack of a better word. He's not quite sexy to her yet. But he could be.

"Sorry about the slight delay," he apologizes, reaching for the handle of the rolling suitcase by her feet. "May I take you to your room now?"

"Sure," she says, shrugging one shoulder. He flashes a grin – though from the corner of her eyes, she thinks it looks more like a smirk – and she hooks her purse over her shoulder and lets her heels click against the tile a little louder than they need to as she follows him towards the elevator.

(Well, even if today ends up being a bust, maybe she can salvage a little fun out of this guy.)

They take the elevator up to the next floor and, when they arrive at room 194, the concierge produces a card from his sleeve almost out of thin air, and she'll admit to herself that it was slightly impressive. He slides the card through the slot, the door unlocking with a click, and pushes it open by the brass handle. "I hope everything is to your liking," he says, and it sounds terribly scripted, especially when he adds the typical one-armed gesture as if expecting some grand reaction of sorts like she hasn't seen enough hotel suites in her life.

She walks passed him without responding and glances around the room. She hates to sound pretentious (well, no, she doesn't), but as far as four-star hotel joints go, she thinks she's stayed in nicer suites than this one.

Oh well.

The door clicks closed as she walks into the main room. The curtains are already drawn, which is already suspicious enough for her to realize something's already off about this place. Normally hotels keep the curtains open to make the room brighter and therefore better upon first impression.

Still, she's admittedly surprised when a voice asks, "So, Felicia, what exactly changed your mind about working with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

She exhales a laugh and shakes her head, turns slightly to look over her shoulder. The concierge (though, obviously not his real occupation) is standing in the doorway with both of his hands tucked into his pockets. He has a definite smirk on his lips now, but she has a sense that it's not because he's feeling smug. It just seems to be his version of a smile. Her eyes flicker up and down his form, which doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. She hates to sound cliché but, somehow, maybe because of the slight difference in the way he's carrying himself, she doesn't feel as if she's looking at the same man that was just another hotel staff only a few seconds ago. This one seems rougher, in more than one sense, and she can't help the smile that forms on her face.

Now this man is sexyto her.

"Is this question part of the process?" she asks. "Or is it a—"

"Personal inquiry," he finishes. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to," he adds, as if it weren't already implied.

"I wasn't going to," she informs.

He arches an eyebrow. "Not even if it was part of the process?" She shakes her head, turning to fully face him now. He chuckles. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"I thought spies weren't supposed to be easily surprised," she comments.

"We're not, but we'll work on that with you."

She can't remember the last time a guy made her laugh and she wasn't faking it, but this one just did. She hasn't even gotten a file in her hand, or any bit of detail or information about what S.H.I.E.L.D. needs her to do, and she can't help the lingering thought in the back of her head that wants her to stick around a little longer.

"So, do secret agents still get to keep their name, or what?"

He laughs, too. "Clint," he supplies as he walks over to the fridge, pulling it open and producing a bottle of alcohol that she knows isn't a typical inclusion in a hotel suite. "And if you want to grab the glasses from the other room, we can talk about your job offer over a little bit of this," he says, lifting the bottle for emphasis. "It's not standard procedure, but…"

"Everything's more fun with a little alcohol," she guesses, and the glint in his eyes tells her that he agrees.


	3. drabble 3

******Pairings:** Peter/Gwen**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~700  
**Prompt:** link on profile

**A/N:** Originally posted as a stand-alone, but added here for the sake of organization. Also, I know this is under the wrong category, but again, it's just easier for me this way.

... ...

She texts him asking if he wants to pick her up so they can hang out, and when he asks her where she is, she says that she's at the cemetery, which means that she went to bring flowers to her father's grave. There's practically a blizzard going on outside but he knows that wouldn't stop her from going. She's there all the time and he knows this because sometimes he'll come to visit, too, from a rooftop at distance, and he can easily pick out her platinum blonde hair and her fair skin.

He doesn't feel guilty about being with Gwen when they both want it. He just feels bad that he's doing the one thing Captain Stacy asked him not to do. He couldn't even carry out a dying father's last wish…

And he's going to stop thinking about it now.

He pulls a jacket on and a beanie over his head and drops a kiss on Aunt May's cheek when he tells her that he'll be back in time for dinner.

She's standing in front of the gates when he gets there, and he exhales this laugh because, seriously, is she _crazy_? It's snowing in New York City, and she's in high heels and a dress and not even wearing stockings or something to cover her legs. The only thing that looks somewhat warm is her black coat and she's not shivering a bit. In fact, she looks perfectly composed and casual and maybe even a little bit bored from having to wait for him.

She's seriously crazy.

"Gwen Stacy, you're seriously crazy."

She cracks a smile. "What are you talking about?"

He pulls his hands out of his pocket and gestures at her. "How are you not cold in that?" She makes a face, looks down at her outfit. "I'm cold just _looking_ at you."

"Okay, babe," she laughs, shoving his shoulder lightly. She's also not wearing any gloves. _Honestly…_ "Can we go to that café that's a few blocks down from here? I'm kind of craving some chocolate croissants, _oh_, and their spicy Mexican hot chocolate!"

He chuckles, drapes an arm around her and pulls her close as they start walking.

"I was going to make you drink some hot chocolate anyway, because I'm afraid you're like, freezing from the inside or something."

She tilts her head at him, raises her eyebrows and gives him that dangerous smile. "Oh, you were going to _make _me, huh?"

"_Yeah_, so you don't _freeze_. Seriously, Gwen, why did you go out in that on a day like today?"

"I always dress up when I visit my father," she says with a shrug, then bumps her hip into his and flashes a smile. "And since when did you think you could be in charge of me? Because if this continues, I'll—"

"You'll, what? You'll lock me out of your chocolate house?"

"I will, actually."

"Oh, you _will_?" he echoes, and she bites her lower lip as she smiles wider. "Well, if _I_ don't get to go into your chocolate house, then neither do you!" he exclaims, and she squeals a little as he snakes his arm around her and hoists her off of the ground. Then she's giggling and wrapping her arms firmly around his neck as he spins them both around, and it's familiar, this feeling of their bodies pressed together as they're laughing and holding onto each other (except they're usually swinging through the air from a web).

But, as he's turning for the umpteenth time, his sneaker slides over a frozen part of the sidewalk and he feels his legs slipping out from underneath him, sending him flat on his back atop a pile of snow with Gwen falling on top of him.

He can see their breaths as they're laughing even harder, and he thinks that this is the first time he's done something so clumsy since getting bitten.

"Great. Now I _am_ cold," she says, shifting above him to pull her legs away from the snow. "I hope you're happy."

But she's still smiling really widely and he knows she's teasing him, so he lets his head fall back as he exhales in a chuckle. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, and then does a quick glance around to make sure no one's watching before shooting a web onto the brick of the building and pulling them swiftly up with one tug. "Did you want to go home and dry off?"

"What about my hot chocolate?"

He smiles and pulls her against his chest again. "Yeah, alright, but that was my only stunt for today."

"Don't be so boring, Peter Parker," she says with a glint in her eyes.

She's seriously crazy, but he loves that about her.


	4. drabble 4

******Pairings:** Steve/Natasha**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,200  
**Prompt:** link on profile

**A/N:** Originally posted as a stand-alone, but added here for the sake of organization.

... ...

It's the tail end of summer, but it's still warm enough for them to be out in the evening in the middle of this field where Pepper suggested they have a picnic. And he likes that she did, because it feels like it's been forever since he's seen everyone.

He still gets to see Natasha every day, though, so he really has nothing to complain about.

He kind of felt a little weird at first about moving in with her. Not because he didn't want to – of course he did, or else they wouldn't even have considered it – but they'd obviously be sharing the master bedroom and sleeping in the same room, let alone the same _bed_, with a woman he wasn't married to wasn't how he was raised.

Of course, he'd already broken the whole _abstaining until marriage_ rule and so moving in with her was like some form of atonement for that.

Anyway.

They're lying down on a blanket with their fingers threaded between them, away from where the others are sitting.

He rolls his head to look at her, with her red curls splayed beneath her head and her eyes staring up at the colored sky above them, and smiles. "A penny for your thoughts," he says, running the pad of his thumb over her skin.

"I'm thinking about what we're getting Tony and Pepper for a wedding gift."

He laughs.

"It's not funny!" She's smiling, though, so he doesn't think she's actually mad at him. "What do you get a guy that has everything he wants and can buy the rest?"

He shrugs, because he honestly doesn't know.

"Thanks for the help."

He grins and brings the back of her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to it as she squeezes their fingers a little.

"Don't buy for Tony, then," he tells her simply, and she tilts her head to look up at him. "Buy for Pepper," he says, and he watches her narrow her eyes a little like she does when she's thinking. Most people might find it a little intimidating, all of these small quirks drilled into her by her persisting lifestyle, but he finds them kind of adorable.

He told her this once, too, and that was the night they shared their first kiss.

"I wonder what I could… _oh_."

He feels her slip her hand from his, and he smiles when she lays herself against his chest and lets out an exaggerated huff at her added weight of like, two pounds.

She rolls her eyes. "I hardly think I'm crushing you, Super Soldier," she teases, and he grins as his arms slide around her waist. "Hey, do you think Pepper and I are the same size?"

Okay, he wasn't expecting that.

"Um…"

She smiles at him. "And can you be honest?" she asks, and see, _that's_ what makes him feel like he's walking into a trap here. Because not only is Natasha some sort of expert on making him squirm, but she knows that he's always honest with her, so why would she need to ask him to be?

So he tells her truthfully, "I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that," and loves the way she laughs, even if he's still a little confused right now.

"Answer honestly," she tells him, tilting her head a little. "It's going to help me with their present."

He raises his eyebrows. "It is?"

"Mhmm. In a way it's for both of them." He's still really confused, but she adds, "I'm getting it at that store you won't even look at," and then his cheeks flush kind of instantly because, yeah, he finally knows what she's talking about.

"Oh," he mumbles. "You mean the pink one?"

"Yup."

"Right," he says, clearing his throat a little. "Well, uh… I suppose you two would be… the same size. I mean, I've never really looked at Pepper like that, at all, but—"

Her laughter cuts him off, and she tips her head forward and presses their lips together.

At first it surprises him. But then he closes his eyes and places his hands over her hips, kisses her like he does when he'll come home to her or she'll come home to him or they'll come home together and she'll lay him against their bed and slide her lips over his without saying anything.

When they pull away, she says softly, "You really are from another time."

He chuckles.

She'll say stuff like that sometimes, commenting on how he says and does these things that reflect the time he came from. He knows she doesn't mean it as a reminder of everything he had to go through and he doesn't take it like that, but it makes him wonder if she's just comparing him to the guys of this time or to the guys that she's encountered. He'd prefer to think of it as the former simply because he hates to think that anyone would treat her anything less than she deserves.

"And you know," she adds, smiling again, "maybe when I go shopping at the pink store, _I_ can buy something for myself, too."

"Natasha…"

"Relax," she tells him. And he does. "We're not going to do anything we're not ready for."

He's still blushing, but he grins at her and threads his fingers into her hair, pushing it over her shoulder. He loves it when she says things like that, about them being together, because it took a lot of effort to step out of his comfort zone and tell her that whether she liked it or not, he wasn't going to let her be alone anymore.

(That was also the night he told her that he loved her. It's probably one of his three favorite nights, all of which include her.)

He nods. "Okay," he says, and then grasps her chin in his fingers and kisses her lips again. "You know, we should probably stop ignoring the others now."

"No," she groans, pushing off of him and flopping onto her back.

"'Tasha," he laughs.

She shakes her head and turns onto her side so that her back is to him. He gives an amused smile. Not many people get to see Natasha like this – only him, the guys, Pepper, and Maria, and he sees it the most because they live together – and it's definitely his favorite side to her.

"Come on. I'll carry you," he tells her, and she tilts her head to give him a smile.

"Well, if you insist."

He shakes his head in amusement as she gets up, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. He tucks his hands behind the bend of her knee as he's getting to his feet, and then waits as she shifts a little to get more comfortable on his back.

As they're heading back to the where the others are sitting across the field, he says, "I love you," because he means it and always wants to tell her.

Sometimes she'll say it back, but most of the time she'll give him this _smile_ right before giving him a kiss.

This time she does both.


	5. drabble 5

******Pairings:** Steve/Natasha**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Prompt:** link on profile

**A/N:** Originally posted as a stand-alone, but added here for the sake of organization.

... ...

The formal funeral they have for Coulson is beautiful and silent and bittersweet, because they saved the world and he hadn't been there to see them finally come together as a team. Steve signed his vintage Captain America trading cards and Tony put them in a glass case in the Stark Tower, where they all live and can see it every day.

It's her favorite part of the Tower.

She takes a seat on the bench facing the display, folding one leg over the other. Her eyes stare past her reflection in the glass at the black signatures at the corner of each card. Steve had cried when he signed them and she's the only one who'd been there.

Why he had chosen to be with her for this moment, she has no idea, and it made her think absently about symbolism before she just dismissed it.

Sometimes things are better when you don't know the entire truth.

Just like the cards.

She knows that Coulson didn't really have them in his blazer when he'd gotten hurt. She'd worked with him for several years and just knew that he wouldn't have risked anything happening to them to carry them with him. Plus, he'd told her – well, she got him to admit it in so many words – that he was only going to take them out of his locker if and when Steve agreed to sign them. She knows that Fury made that up for them, and it a lot of ways, it's still the truth.

It's _their_ truth.

"Is this seat taken, ma'am?"

Steve is standing there, still in his tux like she's still in her little black dress, and offers her a small smile.

"No, of course not," she says, and despite the entire length of the bench being empty, he takes the spot right beside her.

She doesn't mind it, though.

His eyes drift downward to where her hands are resting on her knee, one placed over the other, and she spreads her fingers a little to examine the silver nail polish. It matches her silver heels, and she doesn't really know why the color reminds her of Coulson, but it does and so she wanted to wear it for this occasion.

Then he looks ahead at the display and rubs his palms over the material of his pants, which she knows is in an attempt to try and release some of his nerves.

(Perhaps there _are_ a few things about guys that even time can't change.)

"A lot's happened these past few weeks," he says kind of absently, eyes glancing at the cards for a bit before turning to look at her. "It's kind of crazy to be back."

"A lot's definitely happened to the world since you came out of the ice," she agrees.

He shakes his head a little.

"No. Well, yeah, that too," he corrects himself, "but I guess I meant that a lot's happened since I've decided to let myself _live_ again." She meets his eyes and he shrugs. "I sort of just retreated into hiding when I was thawed from the ice. I didn't really become interested in this world again until Fury found me."

She allows a smile. "So do you like this world?"

"I actually haven't seen much of it," he admits with a chuckle. "Not in the way where you get to _enjoy_ it."

"Well, you should," she tells him. "There are still plenty of beautiful things out there, regardless of all of the awful stuff."

He stares right at her when he says, "I know," and she wonders if he's willing to take a gamble on something that's so unlike what he'd grown to know. Then, as if he could tell what he was thinking about or maybe just _knew_, he adds, "If it wouldn't be too much, maybe you could show me around? You've probably seen more than anyone."

And well, yes, she has, but instead of telling him that certain parts of the world she's seen probably weren't meant to be looked at, she says, "I'd be honored."

He smiles at her as he stands up, and when he offers her a hand, she lets herself take it.

"You know, the city is beautiful at night."

Steve furrows his eyebrows a little. "Tony tells me that it's also pretty dangerous, even more so than when I lived in it."

She smiles. "What kind of a tour guide would I be if I didn't protect you?"

He chuckles a little, and as they're walking towards the elevator, she glances over her shoulder at the cards again and thinks that she has to take Steve to that little collectibles shop downtown that's practically a museum to Captain America. Coulson would've wanted her to.


	6. drabble 6

******Pairings:** Steve/Natasha**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Prompt:** link on profile

**A/N:** Originally posted as a stand-alone, but added here for the sake of organization.

... ...

It's been over a week since she's been home.

She hadn't anticipated the job would take as long as it did and a large part of her wants to kick Fury's ass for not warning her. Not like she would've said no or anything, but a little heads up would've been nice. Maybe before it wouldn't have mattered as much since all she would be coming home to was the agency and more jobs.

But now she has a real home waiting for her and people who want her back just as much as she wants to get back. Prague was beautiful and all, but she just misses everyone.

She misses _him_.

By the time her plane lands, it's the middle of the night and the airport is practically deserted.

She didn't tell anyone that she was getting in tonight, mostly because she didn't find out herself until today and by the time she got on the plane she forgot to make any calls. She doesn't mind, though, because it's not like she can't get her own cab or anything.

Except there's a guy waiting for her, and she knows he's there for her because there are few people Tony Stark will ever _wait_ for, and she's one of them.

"How did you know I was in the country again?"

"Your face popped up on my screen the moment you boarded," he informs, taking the bag from her shoulder. "It's not that hard to hack into international airport securities."

She rolls her eyes. Yeah, she probably should've guessed. "I didn't realize you'd miss me enough to have JARVIS keep watch."

"Pepper is the one that missed you," he corrects, the corner of his lip twitching upward to smirk. "Though, I do miss waking up to your chocolate chip pancakes."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Stark," Natasha mutters, and the first time since boarding the plane, she allows herself to feel the exhaustion she's been holding back since the beginning of the week that otherwise would've ruined her performance. "Can you take me home?"

Tony allows his sincerest smile of the night. "Of course."

… …

The limo waits in front of her house until she's gotten the door open, and Tony nods at her before signaling the driver to take him home.

It's dark, but she doesn't bother turning on any lights.

She knows her way around the house and even if she didn't, it's not like the dark's ever stopped her before. She locks the door behind her before walking to the end of the hallway and into the master. She leaves her bag right by the door – she'll deal with unpacking it in the morning – and kicks her heels off before tugging down the zipper on her side.

"…'Tasha?"

She lets the dress fall to her feet as she smiles at the figure lying in bed. "Hey."

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I didn't know you were coming back today," he admits, shifting to sit up.

"Don't get up," she tells him softly, and he cracks a sleepy smile at her as he lies back down. She pulls the top drawer of the dresser open and grabs a slip, sliding it over her head and tugging it down herself as she walks over to the bed. "Sorry I woke you."

"I like that you did," he mumbles as she pulls back the covers and slides underneath, pulling them over herself. "If I'd known you were coming today, I would've picked you up."

"I know you would've. I just forgot to call before I boarded," she explains. He rolls his head on the pillow to look at her and she leans over and presses a kiss to where his neck meets his shoulder. He hums contentedly. "Don't worry about it, though. JARVIS saw me on the flight and Tony drove me here from the airport."

He makes a noise of surprise. "Remind me to thank Tony later."

She laughs faintly. "Okay. Go to sleep now, Steve."

"I can't now that you're home." Even as he says it, though, he lets out a soft yawn. He sounds as tired as she feels. "I've really missed you."

"I've really missed you, too."

She bites her lower lip a little and slides her hand over the covers between them, laying her arm over his a little. She can feel him watching her as she moves her hand against his, making him uncurl it as she slips her fingers between his. She was never a fan of holding hands until Steve grabbed onto hers once and she loved how safe it felt, how secure.

Steve squeezes their fingers together a little and doesn't say anything, and she lets her eyes fall closed.

She loves being home.


End file.
